XIV

Back once more in the room where the fire crackled, newly replenished, and electric light revealed a shining tea-table, Hone turned to the silent woman beside him.

“Can I write a message?  I promised to send one to Teddy as soon as we were married.”

She pointed to the writing-table; and moved herself to the fire.  There she stood for a few seconds quite motionless, seeming to listen to the scratching of his pen.

He ceased to write, and turned in his chair.  For a moment his eyes rested upon her.

“Take off your hat!” he said.

She obeyed him in utter silence.  Her hands were stiff and numb with cold.  She stooped, the firelight shining on her hair, and held them to the blaze.

Hone rose quietly, and came to her side.  He held his message for her to read, and she did so silently.

“Just married.  All well.  Love.—­PAT.”

“Will it do?” he said.

She glanced up at him and shivered.

“Is all well?” she asked, in a tone that demanded no answer.

He made none, merely rang the bell and gave orders for the despatch of the message.

Then he came quietly back to her.  They stood face to face.  She was quite erect, but pale to the lips.  She stood before him as a prisoner awaiting sentence, too proud to ask for mercy.

Hone paused a few moments, as if to give her time to speak, to challenge him, to make her defence, or to plead her weakness.  Then, as she did none of these things, he suddenly laid steady hands upon her, drew her to him, and, bending, looked closely into her eyes.

“And is there any reason at all why I should not take what is my own?” he said.

She did not resist him, but a long shiver went through her.

“Are you sure it is worth the taking?” she said.

“Quite sure,” he answered quietly.  “Shall I tell you how I know?”

Her eyes sank before his.

“You will do exactly as you choose.”

He was silent for an instant, still intently searching her white face.  Then: 

“Do you remember that night that you fainted in my arms?” he said.  “Do you remember opening your eyes in the boat?  Do you know—­can you guess—­what your eyes told me?”

She was silent; only again from head to foot she shivered.

He went on very quietly, as one absolutely sure of himself: 

“I looked into your soul that night, and I saw your secret hidden away in its darkest corner.  And I knew it had been there for a long, long time.  I knew from that moment that, hate me as you might, you were mine, as I have been yours for so long as I have known you.”

She raised her eyes suddenly, stiffening in his grasp.

“And you expect me to believe that of you?” she said, a tremor that was not of fear, in her voice.

“You do believe it,” he answered with conviction.